


sober

by pleurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Pain-sharing soulmate AU, Pre-Relationship, Slight Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 07:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: Peter’s sick of the damn hangovers. How is it even fair that he’s not even old enough to drink and he already knows the pain and dizzying nausea of dry heaving into a toilet?





	sober

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/380242.html?thread=2229996114#cmt2229996114) for the prompt '100 words of self harm in a universe where soulmates experience your pain secondhand.' 
> 
> CNTW for Peter's ambiguous age.

Peter’s sick of the damn hangovers. How is it even fair that he’s not even old enough to drink and he already knows the pain and dizzying nausea of dry heaving into a toilet? He knows that the intensity of the pain is supposed to fade across long distances, which means his soulmate either drinks to the brink of death, lives nearby, or both. 

He wants to help, of course. But New York is big, and there’s no way Peter can find someone solely through wishful thinking. Plus, he’s just gotten home from bombing his English final after being hungover on and off for three whole days, and he can only skip out on patrolling for so long before the guilt starts to set in—  _ when the bad things happen, they happen because of you _ . 

Fueled by nothing other than Aunt May’s instant coffee and an extra helping of spite, Peter grabs the scissors lying on his desk and cuts a line into the tender skin of his wrist. The pain wakes him up, and he hopes maybe it’ll wake up his soulmate, too.  _ I’m here,  _ he thinks through gritted teeth, as if thoughts could be shared just like pain.  _ I’m affected by your actions, okay? Even if you don’t have anybody else. Even if you don’t  _ think  _ you have anybody else. So stop being selfish. _

Peter watches a drop or two of blood ooze out. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he feels bad. But the throbbing migraine reminds him that this is for his soulmate’s own good, too. It can’t be good to drink that much. 

A prick of pain on his wrist, a few inches below his self-inflicted cut, makes Peter jolt in his chair. His first instinct is that it’s an act of revenge, but this is less sharp than the cut Peter made, just barely deep enough to form a mark at all. A jagged line slowly traces around in an arc, stops at a corner, then loops back up to form— a heart. 

Peter swallows hard. It’s not a work of art by any means. Wobbly, and rough around the edges. His soulmate is probably still drunk. Nonetheless, Peter’s chest gives a hopeful little kick as he smiles to himself. 

After that, he’s sober for two weeks straight.


End file.
